The Sweetest Fanfic Ever
by TheChief88
Summary: When knockout actress Scarlett Johansson arrives in Gotham City, she expects a routine day at the studio. As cyborgs from the future start showing up, however, she starts to have second thoughts about her trip. Even her bumbling agent turns out to be more of a surprise than she could've ever expected. (featuring characters from Dredd and Resident Evil as well. reviews appreciated)


"Miss Johansson! Miss Johansson! Over here!"

Scarlett smiled, sighing through her nose as she was ushered hastily through the horde of brightly flashing paparazzi photographers already gathered outside the Gotham City studio buildings. The filming of the 'Mass Effect' movie was supposed to have been kept secret, but it seemed that word had slipped in the short time it had taken her to fly from LA to Gotham. Scarlett had never particularly minded the tabloid writers and the photographers. It was part of her job, after all, and as long as they weren't too rude or aggressive, she saw no harm in being cordial to them. Her agent, Ken Leonard, however, was a different story. Scarlett had only hired him two months ago based on his charming, easy-going personality, but she was already starting to notice a few professional shortcomings. For one, he was constantly hovering over her when they were in public, reminding her of a particularly over-protective high school boyfriend. Secondly, he seemed incredibly inexperienced compared to her previous agent. She had never heard the phrase 'whatever you want' so many times in her life than during the Mass Effect contract negotiations that Ken had been present for. Still, he was nice, and she certainly had no trouble finding work or negotiating her own contracts. In fact, as she thought about it, was an agent even necessary?

"Back off!" she heard Ken say with a raised voice, instantly forming a human shield between her and the reporters. Scarlett smiled, seeing his light hair bouncing across his forehead as it did whenever he moved quickly. She kept walking, following the studio personnel through the front gates as she glanced up at the sky, seeing that it looked gray, gloomy, and on the verge of rain. She had never been to Gotham before, but based on the stories, it sounded like the paparazzi were the least of her worries. Gotham City was known for two things: being the corporate home of Wayne Enterprises, and being home to a slew of psychopathic criminals who were kept at bay by a masked vigilante. While Scarlett slightly enjoyed the idea of encountering the crime fighter known as Batman, the thought of being held captive by a group of chittering mental patients with self-control issues in order to do so was enough to sway her from the notion. Aside from that, the city seemed quite nice. Before she left LA, she had been invited to a charity fundraiser by the Wayne Enterprises CEO, Bruce Wayne, which was taking place later that evening. She was supposed to be in Gotham for at least four months while they filmed her scenes, and seeing as she had gotten the role of the movie's protagonist, Commander Shepard, she expected it would likely take longer. Being here so long, perhaps she'd end up meeting Batman after all.

She tried to pick up the pace as the crew led her inside the giant studio building, Ken hovering over her and nervously surveying the area.

"Ken," she said in a hushed voice as the crew walked a bit ahead of them. "You know I'm okay being hassled by reporters once in awhile, right?"

Ken glanced back at her, raising an eyebrow. "Sure I know, but it's my job to keep them away from you, isn't it?"

She laughed lightly. "Actually, it's your job to get more of them to follow me."

Ken smiled weakly, walking alongside her now. "Well, what kind of agent would I be if I didn't try to multi-task now and then?"

Another glimpse of his charm. She casually leaned onto his shoulder, derailing his walking path momentarily. "Just try and relax, be sure not to get too caught up in your work."

Ken sighed. "Story of my life."

They walked through the doors and were met with an expansive view of landscapes that looked to be for some sort of space colony setting. Before she could look at anything else, her old friend Christopher Nolan approached her.

"Well, look who's here," he said with a smile.

"Hey Chris," she said, smiling back and giving him a light hug. "I've got to say, as excited as I was about this project, hearing that you were directing it was all it took to sign me."

Christopher Nolan beamed. "Well jeez, don't start with the flattery right away, we haven't even started filming yet. Did they show you to your room yet?"

"No," she shook her head. "We literally just walked in."

"Ah, well you can head on down that hall," he motioned behind himself. "Yours is the third door in, seeing as I know you love being in the middle of everything."

She shook an accusing finger at him. "You've got it all figured out, huh?" she said while Ken instantly made his way past them, heading for the hall.

He laughed, walking past her as well. "I always do. Go get settled in and come find me, I've got lots of ideas about this project that I think you're going to enjoy. If you can't find your room, remember, it's the one with your name on it."

"I'll keep that in mind," she laughed back, striding towards the dressing room that would be her temporary sanctuary for the next few months. As she walked down the hall, she saw Ken already stepping out of her door.

"Uh, everything looks in order," he said, scratching the back of his head. "I'm going to make sure the guys with our luggage know which hotel they're going to, then I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

She shook her head as she walked into her room. "This is the exact opposite of relaxing!" she called back to him.

While her dressing rooms were usually top quality, Christopher seemed to have gone all out, making the huge dressing room nearly as nice as her actual home. She looked around in wonder, always surprised and humbled at how wonderful people could be.

"Mr. Travolta? Sir?"

Scarlett's eyebrow popped up. It sounded as though one of the studio supervisors had said 'Travolta'. She turned towards the door to her room, stepping swiftly into the hall and peering around the corner. Sure enough, standing in the entryway to the studio was none other than John Travolta. She knew for a fact he wasn't cast for the film, and was almost certain that he was supposed to be in LA shooting 'Pulp Fiction 2'. The only thing stranger than seeing him standing there looming over the supervisor was what he was wearing. With a full kevlar vest, combat boots, and tactical harness, John looked as though he had just broken up a street riot. He wasn't wearing a helmet, however, and while the supervisor was standing directly in front of him, John's eyes searched outward, seeming to scan through the entire studio. Her immediate instinct was to venture out and greet her fellow celebrity, but as she went to move, a strong feeling in her gut caused her to stay put. She instead pulled back, making herself hidden behind the corner as she watched from afar.

"Mr. Travolta?" The spindly supervisor said again. "Is there something I can help you with? Unless you have business here, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you vacate the building. I know who you are, but rules are rules."

"Where is Scarlett Johansson?" Travolta finally said, his gaze turning from the room and down to the supervisor. By now, a few more studio personnel had begun to muster around the scene, murmurs of curiosity bubbling up among them.

"Um, you have business with Miss Johansson?" the supervisor stammered, clearly a bit thrown off by the situation. "I'll have to check with her first, would you mind waiting outside?"

"I need to see her now," Travolta demanded again, his eyes not moving from the supervisor. "Where is she?"

"Mr. Travolta," the supervisor responded, his voice wavering a bit. "If you cannot cooperate, I'll have to inform security. I'm sorry, but you know how things work."

Travolta's head cocked to the side, and he spoke yet again. "That's too bad."

Without another thought, Travolta smacked the small man with the back of his hand, catching him in the side. The supervisor wailed in pain as he was swiftly knocked off his feet, bouncing across the floor, and went sailing across the room. Scarlett clasped her hands over her mouth as she gasped, nearly stumbling back over her own feet. The small supervisor flew as if he were a stone being skipped across a lake, certainly not a feat possible by any normal person. Something was wrong.

Travolta marched forward, a dead stare in his eyes as security guards rushed over to him. A group of four grabbed onto his arms, trying to pin him down. Travolta barely slowed down as he grabbed the heads of the nearest two men, smashing their skulls together in each of his hands. Scarlett screamed as blood sprayed out from their heads, and Travolta tossed their now lifeless corpses aside like trash. One of the other guards swore, jamming a taser into Travolta's side. The device sparked a bright blue, clearly connecting, but Travolta swiftly turned, backhanding the guard away, the sickening sound of his neck cracking filling Scarlett's ears. The last remaining guard stumbled away, falling over and trying to claw himself away from the seemingly unstoppable actor.

"Stay back!" he shouted, raising a simple nightstick in defense. Instead of pursuing the guard, however, Travolta continued forward, his eyes still locked ahead as the studio broke out into mass hysteria. Scarlett went to run, but her next sight was something she couldn't look away from. Travolta's piercing blue eyes began to glow red, and his gaze began scanning from side to side. She crouched back further, but she knew she was finished when his stare locked onto her position.

"Scarlett Johansson!" he called, raising his arm up. She watched as the armor panel on his arm popped open, revealing a mounted machine gun.

All of a sudden, Gotham didn't seem like such a great place.

The air lit up with the sound of gunfire, the loud cracking and blasting drowning out everything else, including the screams of the rest of the studio. Scarlett dove back from the corner, retreating further into the hall as a few of the bullets pierced through the drywall where she had just been sitting. She scrambled forward, trying to get to her feet as she heard the heavy, running steps of John Travolta bearing down on her. Scarlett turned, seeing the actor coming into view and raising his arm again, aiming down at her before she could stand. His eyes were no longer red, and had returned to their cold blue stare.

Scarlett did her best to prepare herself. Her teeth clenched, and in a split-second, she was prepared to resign her life. Instead of her world going dark, however, there was a loud blast: a shotgun. With a spray of blood and the odd ringing of metal, Travolta staggered heavily to his left, stumbling to stand up straight again. His efforts were met with another blast, and he stumbled again. Just as an angel would have, a tall man clad fully in leather rushed towards Travolta, holding a sawed-off shotgun. He looked to be a biker, wearing nothing but black leather, and sunglasses. Scarlett looked at his face, and instantly recognized him. It was Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Travolta looked up at Arnold, not seeming surprised or afraid, or much of anything. He attempted to line up a shot with his arm gun, but Arnold's assault continued with a heavy, straight kick, sending Travolta flying backwards and crashing into something unseen (though it certainly sounded painful).

Arnold turned to her, extending a single, leather-clad hand, and spoke.

"Come with me if you want to live."

Not seeing much of a choice, Scarlett scrambled to her feet, reaching up and grabbing his hand. Her breath was nearly left behind as he yanked her along, rushing towards the exit through the pandemonium of the studio. Scarlett looked behind her, seeing Travolta already crawling his way out of a smashed space lab set.

"I realize this might be a bad time," she shouted to Arnold as she tried to keep up with his swift pace, "but I wouldn't mind if you could give me the slightest hint as to what the hell is going on!"

"There's no time," Arnold called back monotonously as they neared the doors. "We need to go, now!"

Instead of opening the door, Arnold simply punched through it, busting it off it's hinges with ease. He pulled her outside, his head quickly turning from side to side.

"We need a vehicle," he stated, his hand still firmly gripping hers. Scarlett looked around, seeing the parking lot across at the next studio.

"We're going to have to run for it," she said, the sound of her own heartbeat thumping in her ears.

Both of glances turned as the sounds of a roaring engine and squealing tires were heard around the corner. A black SUV sped around the bend, racing towards them and screeching to stop. The passenger door popped open, and Scarlett looked up to see Ken Leonard looking back at her.

"Scarlett," he spat quickly. "Get in, we've gotta-what the hell? Arnold Schwarzenegger?"

"Ken?" Scarlett gushed, overwhelmingly happy to see a friendly face. "We've got to go back and help Christopher and his team."

"Negative," Arnold shot back quickly, pushing Scarlet into the front seat as he popped open the rear doors for himself. "Drive as far away from this area as possible. Survival of Scarlett Johansson is the primary mission priority."

"Couldn't agree more with you there," said Ken, slamming his foot down on the gas as Arnold closed the doors, the SUV racing out away from the studio buildings. Scarlett spun around, looking out the rear window to see John Travolta racing after them, on foot. To her horror, he was gaining on them.

Ken peeled the SUV around a corner, crashing through a chain-link fence and onto the street. Just before he was out of their sights, Travolta took a super-human leap, soaring through the air and slamming into the back of them, his hand punching through the fiberglass as he gripped on and began climbing up the back of the vehicle.

"Stay down!" Arnold barked, keeping his feet planted on the seats as he popped his torso through the moonroof with his shotgun still in hand. Ken glanced back as well, and Scarlett spotted a pistol in his jacket, handing just under his arm. There was another blast followed by the whine of lead on steel as Arnold fired the shotgun. The SUV swayed to the side as Travolta slammed another hand down, the imprint of his grip appearing on the inside of the roof. He wasn't going away. Scarlett knew she had to do something. She pieced together a makeshift plan in her head, and seized her window of opportunity as Travolta clawed his way forward again. With a swift motion she reached into Ken's jacket, grabbing his pistol and aiming for the spot on the roof where Travolta's hand lay.

"Hey, keep your head down!" Ken said quickly.

"Get ready!" she shouted, ignoring him. She flipped off the safety and opened fire, quickly grouping five shots at Travolta's hand. She heard the shots connect with something metal, followed by a clunk as he lost his grip.

"Now, hit the brakes!" she shouted, dropping the gun and springing towards the backseat. Ken did as he was told and slammed his foot down, the tires squealing loudly. Scarlet reached up, wrapping her arms around Arnold's legs as the force of the stop nearly flung him out through the roof. Instead, Travolta was the only one who kept going, rocketing forward and smacking down on the pavement a good fifty yards ahead of them. There was a spray of sparks as he collided with the asphalt and smashed into an oncoming city bus.

"Drive!" Arnold demanded again as he crawled back inside the vehicle, his sunglasses still somehow sitting perfectly on his face.

"Way ahead of you," said Ken, hitting the gas again and speeding off without looking back. Scarlett couldn't help a quick glance, seeing the bus had stopped but not whether or not Travolta was still moving. She then turned her attention to Arnold.

"Okay, this is probably a really stupid question," she said, looking him over, her heart still racing. "But are you alright?"

"I am undamaged," Arnold replied, pulling the moonroof closed. "The T-1200 was not anticipating cyborg resistance, and was therefore unprepared for combat. It will adjust it's programming to account for the error."

"Cyborg?" Scarlett said, on the verge of trembling. "You're telling me John Travolta is a cyborg?"

"Each series 1200 unit is made to resemble a prominent figure in human culture," Arnold said. "It allows for more successful infiltration."

"And how the hell do you know that?" asked Scarlett, knowing the answer as the words left her lips.

"I am a Cyberdyne Systems model 101, series 800," Arnold said, the mechanical tone of his voice now seeming overpowering. "Captured and reprogrammed by the human resistance and sent back in time to protect Scarlett Johansson."

Scarlett leaned back, the problem of shitty weather suddenly seeming rather welcome. She turned to Ken, brushing some of her long hair from her face.

"And are you a cyborg too?" she said. "Is that the explanation for why you're such a shitty agent?"

"Well, no," said Ken, his eyes focused on the road. "But my name isn't Ken Leonard. It's Leon Kennedy, and I've been assigned to protect you by the US government."

Scarlett nodded, pursing her lips. "That sure explains it."


End file.
